Midnight.
This is Fucking freezing.
Draven crouched on the rooftop. Behind a chimney. Wind cutting through his cloak. WHOOSH his Eyes were watering Nose running but he Didn't care he Kept on watching.
Eastern gate Three hundred yards away. Everthing was covered in Dark Just torchlight.
The Guards were on patrol. Clink clink. Sound of metals and Armor were coming . From thier Normal shift change.
Nothing suspicious yet.
But one of those guards was bought. Two thousand gold. Enough to look away. Enough to let a prince escape.
Lyra sat next to him. Silent. Still. Shadow magic wrapped around her like a living thing. Flicker flicker flicker.
"Anything yet ?" Draven whispered.
"Not yet." Her voice barely there. Like shadow itself talking. "But he'll come."
"You sure?"
"Intel is right yes." Her eyes glowed purple. Faint. Shadow magic active. Reading the city's magical signatures. "Desperate men always run. It's instinct."
